


The Wedding: A Collection

by Diaph



Series: Early Mornings Series [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Wedding, F/F, Fluff, Romance, True Love, Wedding Fluff, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-26 18:05:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10791891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diaph/pseuds/Diaph
Summary: Lexa and Clarke handling the politics and little arguments that go hand-in-hand with the marriage of two powerful leaders, luckily, they have each other to lean on, forever and ever. [Sequel to Early Mornings: A Collection.]





	1. Chapter I

Lexa stretched tall and long in the sunshine that creeped over the outer ruins of Polis. Knuckles brushing along the stone balcony, teeth between her lip, existing in the sounds of the people celebrating the first morning of their wedding celebrations. The commander allowed herself a moment of respite from the council meetings and trade agreements that normally rattled around inside her head. Instead she allowed herself this simple fleeting pleasure.

"Aleksa," Titus appeared, bird mouthed, nibbling, entirely at war with himself. "It isn't too late for you to-"

"Don't, Titus."

"But-"

"Enough." Lexa turned and warned him with a raised hand that dared him to challenge her further on the subject. "What matters are there to attend?"

"Your bride." he bristled as they stepped back inside from the balcony, brow furrowing under the weight of his dislike for Clarke. "Wanheda's equerry brings the itinerary back with more crossed out than." he stopped and breathed, careful to temper off his frustration. "Wanheda does not care for our traditions and I cannot stress to you the importance of the alliance seeing your consort, an outsider no less, respect our ways." he sighed.

Lexa sagged into her throne and barely hid the flex of her jaw, eyes closed, nostrils flaring, wishing for one moment of peace.

"See Clarke here and make sure no one sees. I will talk to her." Lexa rubbed the gnawing ache that came with loving that stubborn wildling out of her temple.

"Impossible, Heda."

Lexa glanced up, almost in surprise. "You refuse me?"

"No, Heda, forgive me. It will be impossible to bring you Clarke without guardsmen seeing."

"Speak true."

"She's already outside. She made quite the scene."

There was a noise that escaped Lexa, halfway between a sigh and a grunt. She tried to manacle herself in the face of her blistering frustration. Furious, embarrassed, defied and flouted, she remained still and unphased with a learned expertise.

"Send Clarke in."

Titus obeyed and though she wanted to stay angry, no, needed to stay angry. She simply could not, because Clarke was most beautiful when furious and storming through the throne room, flanked by her equerry, she was mesmerising.

"Wanheda." Lexa held back a smile.

Clarke eyed Titus first, then her sky boy. "Leave us." she nodded to the door.

"To what do I owe this abrupt pleasure?" Lexa finally dared to ask.

"Kneel and serve at your feet?" Clarke repeated the words from the holiest scripture, teeth gnashing, barely stopping herself tossing the vows at the foot of the throne.

Lexa rose from her chair and stepped forward, calm and steady like an aureate constellation, magnificent as one too. "I am yours."

"Don't. Don't do that."

"I, am yours." Lexa repeated slowly and stepped forward, careful to make every word matter. "My hands," she slipped them around the contours of waist that peaked from a blue coat. "These lips, this heart, you command them entirely."

Clarke hated the way she was so easily made inert. It was a modest form of warfare the way Lexa commanded her clenching lungs loose with little pretty words.

"I'm not saying I will kneel and serve at your feet."

"They're just words."

"This ceremony, all of it, is just words Lexa, and I'm not saying it."

"Our wedding is a political affair, Clarke. It is a symbol of something so much greater than you and I. It is a commitment to one another to fight and die by one another's side if we must! The alliance _cannot_ see us falter now!"

"No." Clarke rolled her neck and pushed her bride away, "Indoor voice."

"Clarke-"

"Try again." she warned her puffing commander until she forced restraint over herself.

"Clarke," she said softer, "They are words. I am the Heda and you will be my consort and in this room I will kneel and serve at your feet all the days of my life, but out there we must be more than. We are a symbol."

"If we keep the words you owe me big." Clarke warned, pointer finger and all.

"For all the days of my life." Lexa promised.

The first official evening of celebrations came quick with gifts from the furthest northern clans laid at their feet. Purposefully dour and regal at Titus's orders, Clarke sat there, bored and glancing often at the revelry. Bellamy noticed the envious little looks, saddled up to the side of the throne and it took everything for Clarke to temper a smile at the customary clothes and warpaint that was inexpertly smudged around his cheeks.

"Try not to look too excited."

"I'm trying." Clarke huffed and whispered back over the music.

Bellamy nodded at the gifts placed around their feet and topped up her cup. "Looks like you got some pretty cool swag at least."

"I don't understand why we can't enjoy the party."

"I think I'm the wrong person to ask."

"Do you think it's too late to run away?" Clarke felt guilty for joking.

"I could pull the rover around out front?"

"She'd kill you for even joking about it." Clarke lowered her voice as Lexa stared forward and pretended not to listen.

Bellamy smiled softly, perhaps there was a time they could have been more but for all her complaints, she was Lexa's and proudly so. He didn't mind, he had Raven and these days Clarke was more sister than friend.

"It would be worth it to see you smile once tonight."

"She'd definitely kill you." Clarke chuckled.

"I doubt that she would."

Lexa snapped her head over and raised her brow. "The only thing that stops me is the inevitable reckoning from my bride." she promised the boy with a snarl.

"Heda." he bowed his head and curled the corners of his mouth inward. "I'm sorry, we were just kidding around and-."

"I don't suffer foolishness gladly… if you want to survive to the end of my wedding perhaps you could learn something from your sister."

Bellamy quickly returned to the table, the sky people pointing and laughing at him. It made Clarke bite a smirk too which in turn lightened Lexa's mood. Though she played this game with a learned expertise and quickly manacled herself once more, staring forward, shoulders squared, watching the revelry in front of her with a purposeful indifference.

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?" Lexa muttered.

"Pretend not to be jealous."

"There is no pretense."

"I don't mean them." Clarke nodded forward at the ambassadors and warriors all raising cups and swaying. "I mean Bellamy. You've always hated him."

"Perhaps I'm just good at it."

"Lexa-"

"Must we do this now?" Lexa bit a sigh.

"Just, humour me? Does it make you jealous?"

"To hear him joke about stealing my bride the first night of our celebrations?" Lexa snapped her head and flexed, "It infuriates me."

"Or a yes would have been just fine too." Clarke murmured and earned a tiny smirk.

Lexa disliked maybe five things about her wife, the way she offset her bad moods was worth at least three of them. It always completely threw her off and left her with nothing but indecisiveness about what she should do with the worked up bit of herself that wanted the thrill of a fight.

"Maybe," Clarke rose from her throne and earned an immediate glare from Titus at the door. "you can let me make you feel better?" she slipped into Lexa's lap and held her hand.

"Clarke we." Lexa stopped as fingers ghosted up her neck, appraising her, loving her. "We're going to get in trouble."

"There's only one person who gets to shout at my big bad Heda and she's sitting on her lap."

"All you had to do was sit for a few hours." Lexa rolled her eyes and muttered to herself. Determined not to give in to the thumbs that worked Clarke's favourite sinewed bits of her body.

"I'm sat right now… I mean I can think of one or two other places I'd rather be sitting but we'll save that for tonight, Commander." Clarke kissed Lexa's cheek as she nearly choked on her wine.

Clarke's display earned a few lingering glances from the clansmen and highers who littered their hall like unwanted relatives but none dared to hold their stare. Eventually, maybe an hour later, she shifted and stood from Lexa's lap and was quickly pulled back down.

"Titus doesn't look happy." Clarke warned her bride and ghosted her nose along the apex of her jaw.

"My fealty is not to make Titus happy, just you, thankfully."

Clarke felt those little pretty words launch their victorious attack and happy she remained for the rest of the evening and well into the night when she slipped through the back passageways into Lexa's quarters, finding effective ways to make the commander equally as happy in return, right into the wee hours of the morning when the candle wicks finally dimmed and the heady toxicity of their skin together was the remaining source of heat.

Finally, Lexa's hips snapped forward and shook with an aching ferocity and though she took pleasure in knowing she could have earned more, the commander's collapsed and panting figure that sprawled forward over their pillows dared to argue the contrary.

"And that," Clarke punctuated with a small kiss over the tattoo between her shoulder blades, "is why it wasn't in your best interest to have me moved into a separate room."

Lexa chuckled into the pillow and rolled over until their bodies were a tangled mess of arms and thighs and brushing cheeks, "And leave room for the clans to question my virtuous bride's purity?" she lifted a brow and earned a small laugh.

"If Titus finds me here in the morning…" Clarke warned as the commander's arms slipped around the small of her back, holding her, keeping her in their bed.

"He'll what?" Lexa challenged her.

"He'll kill me and make it look like an accident… I mean he probably won't but he could if he wanted to."

"My wants are Titus's wants-"

"Oh really?" Clarke slipped her hand between the commander's thighs with a silly grin. "No wonder he's so frustrated." she nodded along.

At that Lexa rolled her eyes and pulled the ghosting hand off of herself. Clarke still laughed though, kissing the flex of her jaw and chuckling without reservation.

"Could you try not to infuriate me, as a wedding gift perhaps?"

"No promises." Clarke scooched up and took Lexa's head in her lap, back leaning against the headboard, fingers smoothing wiry wisps that escaped the mass of her soon-to-be wife's hair.

 


	2. Chapter II

The previous night that was spent collapsed and entirely satisfied in their sheets was the last to be had for the rest of the week. Clarke snuck out before the sun could rise over the cusp of the hills, quick and silent, an expert in navigating the secret passageways that linked rooms within the tower.

She even did well to stoke the fire into hot ash and unmake her bedsheets to collude in the pretense of her virtuous behaviour. It felt silly and vapid, under normal circumstances her pride would never allow her to be small and well-behaved for someone else, not even for pretend. But for Lexa? Her pride could burn.

The maids came at their normal time and Clarke poked her head from beneath the bed sheets as the the trunk thudded the table, echoing the room loudly.

"Good morning?" she tried to sound groggy.

"Would you like help packing, Wanheda?" the maids pointed to the trunk.

"Packing?"

They looked back dumbfounded for a moment, then slowly glanced between one another. "It's part of our way… did your equerry not explain the Heda would seclude herself in prayer leading up to your union?"

"Guys, still not understanding what this has to do with me packing?" Clarke blurted and sat up.

"Perhaps we should get the Hed-"

"No," Clarke quickly stopped them, stuck in the knowledge that Lexa was in no fit state to be bothered after their long night together, instead she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and thought of an excuse. "It's not necessary to bother the commander during her prayer seclusion." she swallowed, "Just… speak true?"

"With the commander withdrawn from her duties it was expected you'd return to Skaikru in wait for the wedding."

"...because I'm incapable of being unchaperoned?" Clarke twisted her face into an annoyed expression.

"Because it's your wedding and perhaps you might want to celebrate with, I don't know, your mom?" Abby appeared at the door with a small smile worked into her face.

"Ah, so you're behind all of this?" Clarke flopped back down in the bed and pulled the sheets up around her chest. "You guys can go." she waved off the maids and closed her eyes, knowing her mother would have something to say.

Clarke waited for it, the reckoning, the shouting, the argument that would hit the room like a dysfunctional family bomb any second.

"I miss you."

The words hit her in the gut and she clenched her eyes, this was unfair. Shouting and arguing was easy, but this, this was the impossible.

"You're not happy about this, remember?" Clarke reminded her mom, "In fact, you told me _very_ explicitly just how unhappy you were."

"In my defence I just wanted more for you than… this." Abby gestured to the room and flopped her hands down into her lap.

"She's the commander. For all intents and purposes, I'm marrying a queen."

"No." Abby mused, "You're marrying a king and with that comes the expectation that you'll be less than her in some small way. I wanted more for you than that, but, if you're happy… I'm happy." she sighed and softened into a smile, even squeezed Clarke's shoulders too.

The first night without Lexa was easy. Clarke spent it in the old galley that was now Arkadia's supply room drinking badly brewed moonshine with old friends and listening to Earth songs her dad taught her all about. Her mom, Raven, Bellamy and Octavia were all there and that made it easier to be apart from her warlord, she never saw them as often as she liked and when she did it was often as the ambassador or Lexa's right hand, always something pretentious and requiring of dourness.

It dawned on her as she looked around how old and settled everyone seemed, it shouldn't feel like that, they crashed home less than four years ago and somehow the ground had weathered them in ways the stars never could. Octavia was sinewed and assured in her skills, speaking rarely but making every word count, she had tattoos down her shoulder blades now, intricate and impressive, she showed them off often, always proud, always hungry for more. 

Bellamy was more mellow, she noticed it more on nights like this when he had a beer in his hand and Raven on his knee mercilessly teasing him. He seemed smaller now, more manageable, before there were hungry flames in his eyes but the growing bump underneath Raven's shirt dimmed him into something far more sensible for his unborn son's sake. Raven made sure of that.

Then there was her mom, Clarke took a long look over a sip of home brew and tried to make sense of her.

"You getting cold feet?" Abby caught her lingering stare and asked almost hopefully.

"No," Clarke shook her head and pulled herself up to sit on the counter. "I'm just... thinking."

"Well, if you want to stay here and wait until you've done all of your _thinking_ I'm sure Lexa would wait too-"

"Mom, Lexa and I are happening, let it go." Clarke stifled the frustrated laugh and rolled her eyes. "I'm just thinking about how much everything has changed."

"Nah," Raven piped in and stood from her perch on Bellamy's thigh. "Look at Octavia." she pointed at the younger Blake, "She is as badass as she always was, a little more refined, a little braver, a little hotter, but still totally badass." she span with her pointer finger ready to choose her next muse. "And Monty, still a total computer whizz, Murphy, still a complete asshole," she hummed over her friends and her finger found its way to Bellamy. "Still cute," she smirked, " but still too stubborn and thick-skulled." she rolled her eyes and finally faced Clarke. "And then there's you."

"Me?"

"Still out to prove something, still stubborn and smart and falling in love with people you really shouldn't do." Raven softened into a teasing smirk. "We're all the same, just a little more refined these days."

At that Abby nodded and took a big sip of her drink, "One minute you were all singing parts in the Unity Day play a thousand miles above the Earth and now Octavia's a trained assassin and my daughter is marrying a murderous warlord."

"If it wasn't for that murderous warlord we'd all be drinking Kool Aid in the City of Light." Octavia cleared her throat and shrugged, "If you ask me Clarke's picked a good one."

"Thanks." Clarke mouthed at her friend and raised her drink.


	3. Chapter III

"I don't give a _damn_ if she's drinking tea with the devil himself! I want to see my wife!"

Lexa opened her eyes and rolled them simultaneously, sore and stuck on her knees before the shrine of the old gods. The cacophony of sound slipped through the closed doors of the black hall and she smiled briefly into the inconvenience of it, there would be another day before she was Clarke's wife, still time to dissolve these matters, but from the sound of her awful mood, Lexa wouldn't be quick to bring up the small detail.

"Heda." Titus glared as she rose from her knees, dusting herself off. Lexa slipped her eyes at him, and with it Titus righted his small outburst and chewed away his insolence and reluctantly bowed his head, nostrils flaring in disgust that the sky girl was given such freedoms and liberties.

Clarke's voice was raspy and clouded by the door that separated them, "Fine. Do you want to explain to the commander why she wasn't informed?" she dared the guardsmen.

Lexa's ears pique at that.

The doors open and Clarke storms inside. Titus seethes on it, voice shrill over the gnash of his teeth, snarling about the fury of the gods. Clarke cares for none of them and Lexa is certain if they were here, her lover would tell them as much too.

"Leave us." Lexa commands her flamekeeper and puts an end to the squabble.

She waits until the doors are closed and they are alone before she steps forward, the dim light from the candles harshly captured the dirt on her brow and hands from the long journey. It earns a rare smile from Lexa, there was a proof in the grime of the day and it echoed the truth that yes, that damn sky girl did in fact ride for four hours to find herself here.

"You really came?" Lexa blinked in shock, smiling and grateful.

Clarke looked over her shoulder towards the closed door, "Do you think they bought it?" she whispered nervously.

Lexa nods, exhaling a tiny relieved sigh. It was in the early hours of the last morning spent together that Clarke made the promise. Sprawled over the commander's chest, jaw aching, lips softly kissing her breasts, she listened intently whilst Lexa murmured her complaints about the days of prayer seclusion she would spend in the mountains. She smirked at first, which frustrated Lexa all the more, but then the tiny promise came that she would come and rescue her dearest warlord and the mere idea of it earned that rare small laugh.

Smirking at the game afoot, Clarke spoke as close to the door as possible. "The Ice Nation have been spotted advancing the borders towards Arkadia, Heda."

"I will not have it!" Lexa booms loud enough for the listening ears behind the doors to quake on.

"I'm sorry to disturb your prayer seclusion, I know how much it meant to you, but this matter _must_ be attended immediately. You have to return to Polis with me now if we're going to fix this before the ceremony." Clarke said it with enough severity to convince her girlfriend's people that something urgent was afoot.

"Thank you." Lexa mouthed and briefly closed her eyes.

"You're welcome." Clarke smirked, mouthing the words back.

Lexa refused to hear Titus, instead he was commanded to stay at the foot of the shrine and worship on the Heda's behalf whilst she dealt with an already resolved problem. Bellamy was already negotiating the buffer zone and agreed trade routes between their neighbouring lands with Echo on the King's authority. 

There was a rare wonderful comfort in riding home in the knowledge that there were no matters to attend, no problems to be heard, no counsel to be taken. She soaked inside the rare privilege of no responsibilities and found herself smiling because of it.

"Sorry if I came too late," Clarke murmured as their horses trotted ahead of the guardsmen. "Mom made me stay an extra day." she offered an apologetic look.

"Look at this," Lexa shook her head and stared out at the sun stagnating over the quiet water of the river below. "It's wonderful."

"Are you feeling okay?"

Lexa smiled at that, "You see that sunset." she pointed.

"Clearly, yes."

"I can't remember the last time I got to watch a sunset. Do you not think that's sad?"

"Have you been fasting this week?" Clarke asked, trying to make sense of her. "They let you eat back there, right?"

Lexa rolled her eyes and pulled the reigns, sending her horse trotting down the slope of dirt towards thickets that bordered the river. "Are you coming, Wanheda?" Lexa grinned, peering over her shoulder at her dumbfounded bride.

"Polis is that way." Clarke pointed in the opposite direction.

"Polis will still be there, come watch this sunset with me whilst the world is still quiet."

Clarke rolls her eyes, following behind her curious warlord whilst she lead them through the overgrowth and grey of the woods. The water came into view quickly enough, orange and purple and alive beneath the stagnating sun like molten. The birds flew overhead and sang lovely little songs and all Clarke could do was relax into the strangeness of it.

"You're not getting cold feet?" Clarke joked, slipping off of her horse beside the commander's still figure. Lexa turned and raised a brow in confusion. "You're not having second thoughts about the wedding?"

"You're already mine, Clarke. The wedding is for everyone else." Lexa softens into a gentle smile. "Come here and enjoy this with me."

"You're in a good mood."

"When am I not?"

Clarke laughs at that and says nothing, biting the skin inside her lip. For them, as leaders, quietness came in tiny brief moments beneath the frantic and urgent. This was too much quiet. Clarke didn't know what to do with it, so instead she just stood rooted in her footing and watched her beautiful girl.

Her pauldron came off first with a hint of a smile, and then her coat, trousers and boots were kicked off carelessly into the wet shale, and Clarke watched her do all of these things with a confused stare.

"Get in." Lexa demanded, ripping off her shirt and treading through the shallow water.

"Can't I just watch?" Clarke sighed.

"These arms have missed you too much for that…"

"Is this you trying to be smooth?"

Lexa smirked and sat into the chill of the water, "I won't let you drown."

The answer was good enough for Clarke, rolling her eyes and grinning the entire time, she ridded herself of the grimy clothes and muddy shoes the journey here had earned. She felt her warlord watch her with languid eyes that slipped across her body with a sore and longing wanderlust.

The water lapped at her ankles first, it was cool and the refracting sunlight scattered and bounced into her eyes. Clarke took tentative steps further into the drop-off of the river. They weren't fast enough, Lexa burst from the water and threw her bride over her shoulder, carrying her to where the water was waist-deep and freezing.

"Lexa!" she yelped into the chill, laughing and slapping her shoulders.

"There." Lexa threw her in, chuckling and wiping her brow. Clarke burst back through the surface of the water, shivering and splashing the commander with as much cold water as the stroke of her arm could send.

"You are the worst, do you know that?" Clarke complained, wiping her eyes.

She slipped her arms around the sky girl's waist, brought her into the cove of her body until the attacking chill of the water subsided into nothing. "I want thousands of days with you like this." she whispered and smiled into the arms that slipped around her neck.

Legs wrapped around her gut until Clarke was sat on her hips beneath the refract of the water. "I love you a lot." she almost complained, brows furrowed and all.

"Was your mother still upset?"

"She hid it better than usual."

"She worries for the right reasons. She's scared I'll die and break your heart."

"Don't ever do that." Clarke prodded her chest, "I have it on good authority your people go through commanders quickly and I'm determined on keeping this one, so no dying, ever."

"An impossible request."

"No dying." Clarke reiterated, slipping her lips against her bride's. "Not even a little bit." she whispered into her kiss.

It was soft and unhurried which was strange and all the more wonderful because of that. Normally their kisses were fleeting things stolen in the mere seconds of privacy they were afforded during the day, or desperately passionate and aching in arousal like the ones they shared at night. This was different, Clarke liked it all the more for it.

"Do you think we'll be happy?"

"I hope so." Lexa hummed, "We will fight a lot."

"More than we'll agree." she dragged her mouth along the ridge of her jaw. "I like it when we fight, you're strong enough to handle me."

"My proudest talent." Lexa chuckled and slipped her rough hands beneath her sky girl's thighs, pulling her higher into her waist.

"I'm going to love you for a lifetime, even on the days I hate you. I'm going to love you through all of it."

"I never thought…" Lexa's voice ached into a rare quiver. "I didn't think I would find another." she righted herself. "You can hate me every day of our long lives but if I'm not allowed to die neither are you."

"The world will burn and we'll be the only things left." Clarke joked, arms resting into the sinews of her shoulders.

Lexa sighed, "Maybe then we'll have more days like this."

 


	4. Chapter IV

Beneath the steeple of the great hall, antsy and waiting, occasionally glancing up through the holes of the ceiling that ascended to the very top of the old building, Lexa sucked in a breath and forced herself to be the commander because to be anything less in front of the congregation wasn’t part of the deal. Still, she didn’t trust herself, absolutely convinced that tears were on the horizon. It made her nostrils flare, and sent the hollows of her stomach twisting on the emptiness of a breakfast she was too nervous to eat this morning, all in an attempt to keep a firm hold on the shroud of her station.

“Do not be weak now, Heda.” Titus muttered the words quietly as the doors were opened, and somehow, she took strength in that.

Lexa didn’t turn around to look at the bridal procession, and there was no family waiting at her side, no mother to weep or father to rely back an approving smile that Clarke, was in fact, the most beautiful bride to ever grace this weathered church. 

To be the heda is to be alone, or at least it did mean that, and in some kind of sobering way Lexa closed her eyes and existed in these last few moments of solitude — because soon she would be bound and promised in the most sacred of bonds to another.

“I am proud of you, Alexa.” Titus mutters quickly and quietly in her ear. “In some ways I have always seen you as a daughter-” he paused and swallowed harshly, unskilled and embarrassed. “Your happiness brings me happiness.” he cleared his throat and nodded.

Lexa nodded, and there were words, sentimental and thick with gratitude for his years of service, stuck in the tightest part of her windpipe. She opened her mouth, even tempted the idea of freeing them, but Titus saved her the trouble.

“I know.” he nodded.

“Alright.” Lexa smiled and glanced to the floor. “She will make a good queen, one day.” she mused and straightened her posture. “She’s smart. Good. Brave. Her heart is strong, and she will lead well.” she listed these things slowly, nodding on each one.

“She already does.” Titus admitted reluctantly. Lexa swore she saw the ghost of a smile.

By the time Clarke reaches the altar an eternity of daydreams has already passed Lexa by, and with it she sees the promise of children, daughters, tiny and plentiful, with moonlight for skin and quick nimble feet. There’s fights too. Hundreds of them; politics, trade, amnesty, dessert, always something new for Clarke to be more determined over than the commander could remember her being in times past before. Then, they were old, and there were no fights anymore, no thrones or kings or alliances to bare… just wrinkled paper hands and sunsets by the lip of seared orange water.

“Am I interrupting?” Clarke whispered and slipped a hand around a bare forearm that was never usually allowed to see the light of day. She recognised the thoughtful, absent look in her mighty heda’s eyes and that in turn earned a rare untempered smile. “Ah,” Clarke slowly smiled too and nodded her head. “You’re speechless.”

“Entirely.” Lexa managed.

The history books would remember this, and Lexa grieved for the eyes that grace those parchments centuries ahead of her now. Because they would remember — and still they would not remember well enough. They would never know the flecks of starlight trapped in the very corners of her bride’s eyes, or even just the colour of them; that particular, impossible, ancient kind of blue, and the only way Lexa can describe that kind of blue is with the memory of worn out glass beer bottles washed on to the beach beneath the darkest hours of moonlight. There would be no scholars to preserve the dark stains seared onto her fingertips from the hours of practicing smearing her paint. Or how, in one briefly perfect moment, the commander of the thirteen and the commander of death were so perfectly human and fragile that the entire empire had to fall still and let them be.

“It’s not too late to run away with me?” Clarke promised quietly with a smile and took her trembling hands whilst the bridal congregation took their positions.

“It will never be too late for that.” Lexa assured softly and took a step closer. “There will always be an empty farm waiting for us somewhere.”

“Can you imagine how boring that would be?”

“I try not to.” Lexa admitted.

Titus cleared his throat, brooding eyes glancing between them, silently reminding of the audience of important no-ones and irrelevants who were now seated. Lexa cared for none of them, and all the lessons and all the mantras and all the training of her life suddenly evaporated, and with it, so did the constant quiet fear of leading well — because now there was two of them to bare that burden together. Clarke just licks her lips and smiles, because beneath the candor and sworn blood promises to her people, she feels it too.

For a long, thoughtful second, Lexa was deaf to the holy reading. Rendered completely blind to the bright light searing their silhouettes on to the furthest wall from the flicker of candles brought slowly down the aisle by nightbloods in their best clothes. All that there is, is Clarke. Impossible and aggravating and troubled and astute and beautiful and as terrible she could be, Lexa cannot think past all that she is, she won’t even try.

“It’s time for you to kneel,” Titus leaned forward and whispered quietly to Clarke, waiting on a hopeful breath that just for once the sky crew wouldn’t turn this into a political move.

It was too quiet. That terrible hollow silence of baited breath was too plentiful, and yet, powerful as she was, Lexa couldn’t put a stop to this. She knew that as much as this was for them, it was for their people too, and there had to be some acknowledgement of the old ways among their vows. Clarke hesitated for longer than a moment, candlelight searing their prone figures onto the stone wall.

“It’s alright.” Lexa mouthed and nodded. Clarke just exhaled and nodded back.

As soon as Clarke’s knees hit the ground Lexa regretted it, and though she couldn’t look away, couldn’t show weakness in front of her people, she would never let her wife be made small like this again. She did not enjoy this — the act of making a wild thing buckle at its knees, but Clarke did it for her. She did it without a single look of malice or irritation, only love, only promises that her brooding warlord was worth the embarrassment.

“I will serve you and no other,” Clarke said with that disjointed sky tongue in the mother language of the ground, “I swear fealty to stand at your side through war and peace, until death do us part.”

Lexa nods wordlessly and licks her lips. “Rise.” she whispered and extended a hand which was eagerly accepted. Clarke dusted herself off, peering into the heda’s perfectly steeled expression. “I take you as my wife and consort, Clarke kom Skaikru.” she said tersely, earning an approving nod from her teacher. “...and I will love you forever,” she emphasised with a rare cool smile, “beyond life and death and what may come in between.” she stared into her bride’s eyes, ignoring the shocked muffle talk of her audience for being so languid before them.

“I love you.” Clarke mouthed, pearl eyed.

Lexa nodded, and the fact she wasn’t allowed to return those words again for fear of gossip made her feel weaker than she’d ever felt before. Blinking and swallowing, she felt her nostrils flare slightly and pushed any and all emotion down to the very bottom of her throat. The hard part was over now, they were through with the bit that existed as evidence of their union for the world to see, and she took some small comfort in that.

By the time the day was done with, by the time the feasts were laid and their legs were stiff from the confines of their thrones — watching the revelry of their shared people, long after wedding gifts were exchanged and their marks tattooed by hand on one another’s spine with the deep scratch of an inked needle, Lexa felt herself grow antsy for what came next. The ambassadors dispersed into fractions that returned to their clan quarters, leaving only the select few sky people Lexa allowed to remain after this late evening hour.

“Are you sure you still want to do this?” Clarke asked hesitantly as her mother ushered in a cloaked woman with a small bonsai tree in her hands.

“Your faith is important to me, Clarke.” Lexa confirmed and squeezed her hand. “I want to love you in as many sacred ways as one person can love another.”

“Did you practice that line in your head?” Clarke teased knowingly.

“Maybe.” Lexa’s lips curled into a smirk as she stared forward to where the sky people set up a small rudimentary alter of sorts.

Bellamy assured them over the static of the radio that Titus was still firmly in his quarters, and Lexa prayed, for the first time in a decade, that such was the case. She imagined his furious eyes at the sight of this holy chapel desecrated with the practices of a blasphemous faith — and gut wrenching as the prospect of that headache was, Lexa didn’t mind, not really. Anything to please her new bride.

“Step forward.” Abby beckoned them from the side of the holy woman, an old dog-eared bible in her hands. “If you hurt my daughter-” the sentence hung in the air as she looked between them both, licking her lips and leaning in to the heda’s space. “We have bombs left.”

“Mom-”

“Dozens of them,” Abby warned with arched brows, “if you _ever_ let anything hurt her.”

Lexa nodded and swallowed, which barely appeased Abby enough. Clarke threw her apologetic eyes, mouthed a small sorry, cringed in embarrassment at her mother, but nonetheless these things were anticipated by them both and Lexa was warned ahead of time.

They held one another’s hands as the holy woman read their vows aloud, and Lexa repeated them first — to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, in sickness and health, till the end. She smiled with each one, because even without the idea of faith or heaven or god or hell, those words meant something beyond any of it, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that leading the free world and choosing who lived and died was all just practice for the challenge of loving Clarke Griffin.

“I now pronounce you wife and wife.” the holy woman smiled and wrapped their entwined hands in the bright purple cloth of her vestment. “You may kiss one another.”

The kiss was terrible, it was tepid and not nearly enough and Lexa felt foolish for even trying. But her mother-in-law had bombs, and the kind of kiss she needed to give Clarke could wait until she was far enough away not to destroy the epicentre of the civilised world.

“Smart decision.” Abby muttered at her blushing daughter-in-law at the tameness of the kiss. Clarke just glared.

The real kiss comes hours later, wound in one another’s bare arms against the prying eyes of the twilight moon beyond the open window in what was now their shared quarters. Clarke bucked and grinded into the commander’s hips, blankets draped around her shoulders until all Lexa could see was the flash of a bright gold band around her finger and the pale highlight of her breasts from the dying candles on the fireplace behind their bed.

“You’re my wife.” Clarke groaned and chuckled, hands slipping over her bride’s shoulders as she came down from her orgasm. “Am I Mrs Heda or are you Mrs Griffin?”

“I really only understand about twenty percent of the things you say, my love…”

“Don’t worry about it.” Clarke dipped down and kissed her jaw, “Silly sky things you don’t need to worry about.” 

Sore and satisfied, Clarke moves and Lexa shifts her hips until her wife is cradled between them. Calloused fingers push soft stray hairs off of her pale brow, and their lips finally meet in a sloppy and hungry clash that sets her lungs on fire with the need for more. Clarke is a fantastic kisser, her lips are enough to make the commander antsy and nervous and embarrassed in the carnal need to have them on her again and again — the sky princess doesn’t mind, generous as she is, and so their tongues explore and their noses brush and Lexa’s fingers drag along the ridges of her spine.

“You’re my wife.” Clarke’s brow knitted in surprise as she pulled away, absolutely astounded that it was the case.

“Til death do us part.” Lexa hummed it.

 


End file.
